The Way of the Guilty

by Jennifer Stanley

  Flushing at the compliment, Cooper eyed the wall calendar behind Mr. Farmer’s head. It was unlikely Angela had fled too far from Richmond. Cooper knew her friend was fastidious about keeping the roots of her platinum hair touched up and would never trust anyone but her regular beautician to do the job. A stickler to schedule, Angela always visited her stylist on the second Monday of the month. She’d be due for an appointment that very afternoon, in fact.

  “Why not write Angela a note explaining everything and allow someone else to give it to her?” Cooper suggested. “This way, she’s bound to read it—especially if she’s trapped under a dryer hood. As soon as she realizes that you’re still a bachelor, and a bachelor who’s sorry to have caused her pain, she’ll call you right away.”

  Mr. Farmer grabbed a piece of paper and a green Sharpie and pushed it across the desk. “Write down where and when, please.” He looked up at Cooper. “But before I rush off to get this situation under control, there’s something I’d like to talk about with you.”

  Cooper penned the name and address of Angela’s salon. “Anything serious, sir?”

  Without glancing away from the letter he’d immediately begun composing on his computer, Mr. Farmer shook his head. “Only if you consider a new title and a significant pay raise serious. It seems that I need to divide our company into two divisions: Document Security and Leasing & Maintenance. I’ve approached Ben about running the shredding operation and now I’m asking you if you’ll be my department head in charge of repairs and service. Ben gets Emilio and the new hire of his choice and you’ll have to bring two more folks on board to complete your team.” He patted a stack of paperwork with his left hand without pausing in his scribbling. “The contracts are flooding in, Cooper.”

  “Why now, sir?” Cooper was as perplexed by this as she was by the increase of sales at Lincoln’s dealership. “The economy is so weak.”

  “Because Reliable Office Solutions hasn’t been so reliable lately.” Mr. Farmer grinned in amusement. “In fact, our main competitor may be going out of business any day now. Several of their employees have informed me that they’re ready to jump ship.”

  Cooper pondered the impact of expansion. Their company would be the frontrunner in repairs and service, they’d own a small fleet of repair vans, new coworkers would populate the break room, and there’d be an influx of funds. Mr. Farmer had mentioned a significant raise. Perhaps she’d knock off her credit card debt once and for all. “My salary, sir? What would that be?”

  Mr. Farmer spoke a number fifty percent higher than Cooper’s current salary. Holding on to the door handle for support, she nodded. It took her a moment for the reality to sink in. Her employer seemed to have forgotten she was there until Cooper said, “I accept, sir.”

  “Excellent.” He paused long enough to get up, walk over to her, and shake her hand. He then placed a manila folder bursting with disheveled papers in her arms. “See to the needs of our latest clients and sort through these employee applications. Your role as department head starts now.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Farmer!” Cooper clutched the paperwork as though it contained national security secrets. “I won’t let you down.”

  “The thought would never cross my mind,” he replied with a smile. “You’re the best I’ve got and I know a good thing when I see it. Now go on and spend some of that new, bigger paycheck.”

  Taking her boss’s advice, Cooper drove straight to the nail salon and plucked a shade of dark burgundy polish called Royal Rajah Ruby from the shelf. It was from OPI’s India Collection and was cited as being the hue for “the prince’s princess.”

  I’m feeling quite regal at this moment, Cooper thought as she slipped her feet into the warm scented water.

  “How you been?” inquired Minnie, her regular technician.

  Cooper thought, I feel like my life is a big Tilt-A-Whirl ride. Things are spinning out of control and I’m just trying to hold on. I’m cooking dinner for my sister and her husband this evening, and my boyfriend and an ex-con I’ve got the hots for ate pizza together in my apartment last night. On the other hand, my good friend Angela’s love life is back on safe ground and I just got a promotion and a killer raise.

  “Busy,” she replied instead.

  Minnie squirted a generous splotch of green lotion onto a rough sponge and got to work on her client’s calluses. “You pick bold color! Always pink or beige for you before. You feel kinda wild today?”

  Laughing, Cooper nodded. “Yes, I do! It’s been a crazy few weeks.”

  A look of skepticism passed across Minnie’s smooth face. “I no believe you. You church girl. Nice boyfriend. Fix machines. How you get wild?”

  Cooper was accustomed to Minnie’s broken English, but she knew there was no way to communicate to this sweet young Vietnamese girl that she was investigating a murder in her spare time. “Let’s just say that when my vacation week comes up in March, I’ll be good and ready for it.”

  An hour later, refreshed and reinvigorated as a result of Minnie’s strong and skillful hands, Cooper drove to Ashley’s house in order to commence with dinner preparations. As she washed plum tomatoes for the field greens salad, she couldn’t help replaying the scene in which Edward and Nathan had introduced themselves, shook hands with one another, and gotten down to brass tacks on Miguel’s case as though they were old friends.

  It was only when Cooper recounted the exact comments made by Hector during the creation of her forged documents in the back room of Doc Buster’s Video that they realized an important detail had been overlooked.

  “And then he muttered something that sounded like China blanca but I couldn’t be sure,” Cooper had said as she’d finished relating her final words with Hector.

  Edward had been steering a wedge of pizza toward his mouth, but he dropped it back on his plate with a wet thud. “China Blanca? That’s China White. And he wasn’t talking about a country, either.”

  “What is it, then?” Ashley had demanded.

  “Black tar, diesel, smack, brown sugar, chiva, junk.” Edward picked up his pizza and began to eat, his gray eyes distant. “Heroin. Good sh—ah, stuff, too. China White is pure as Arctic snow.”

  Nathan had gaped at Edward in astonishment, but Cooper’s only reaction had been to say, “So we can assume that Miguel’s extra money came from being involved in illegal drugs. Great. Time to tell McNamara and Wiser what we know.”

  Edward had shaken off the idea immediately. “What do we know? That Miguel Ramos might’ve been a runner. He didn’t deal. He was small-time. A little fish. Doesn’t help the cops a bit. They don’t know who the kingpin is or where he’s at. I gotta go to a shooting gallery and find out who’s importing the China White.”

  “A shooting gallery? You’re going to fire a gun?” Ashley had been nonplussed. “Like for target practice?”

  Wiping his hands on his napkin, Edward had stood and indicated that it was time for him to leave. “No, darlin’. This kind of gallery uses needles, though there’s plenty of heat there, too. Folks pay to shoot up in a protected environment. Sometimes they buy the drugs there, too.” He rose and clapped Nathan on the back. “Nice to meet you, man. Catch you later, ladies.”

  Once he’d gone, Nathan had turned to Cooper and said, “Interesting fellow,” and then he’d also departed, claiming he needed rest from three straight days of physical labor.

  “They’re fleeing from you like flies from the swatter,” Ashley had teased on her way out the door.

  Now, twenty-four hours later, Cooper was in Ashley’s kitchen rubbing olive oil into a fortune’s worth of lamb chops while her sister trimmed a bouquet of long-stemmed, winter-white roses. Cooper didn’t regret her offer to cook dinner for Ashley, but she desperately wished she could spend the evening in quiet reflection instead. The last few weeks had been tumultuous, and if she could just focus on something uplifting, like her Corinthians Bible study assignments, she knew the ongoing drama of Miguel’s death wouldn’t seem all-encompassing.


  Several times throughout the day, Cooper had removed Rich Johnson’s card from her wallet and smoothed her fingers over the embossed black letters. He headed up the city’s special drug task force unit, so it made sense to tell him about Miguel’s connection to the heroin known as China White. True, she had nothing more to offer than a mumbled Spanish phrase, but perhaps it would be enough of a lead for someone as dogged as Officer Johnson to follow. However, she’d promised to give Edward until the end of the week to come up with a more definitive clue and was now forced to keep her word, despite the fact that she worried about his safety and his proximity to the vices of his former way of life.

  “Didn’t I buy lovely chops?” Ashley asked, breezing into the kitchen with all the glamour of a movie star. She wore a cashmere sweater in a rich indigo hue, a shimmering gray skirt, and a diamond and pearl necklace that would have made Liz Taylor jealous.

  Cooper nodded. “You look gorgeous, sis. What’s your pre-dinner game plan?”

  “Cosmos in the living room.” Ashley removed chilled martini glasses from the refrigerator. “The fireplace is lit, the roses will be in the Waterford vase Lincoln gave me for our second anniversary, and I’ve got the cutest little cocktail napkins to set out.” She handed Cooper a pink and green napkin showing a cartoon woman seated in front of a line of liquor bottles. The caption read, “Some people call it a problem. I call it a hobby.”

  Laughing, Cooper turned her attention to mashing potatoes in one of Ashley’s stainless-steel mixing bowls. She blended sautéed garlic, melted butter, and a scoop of sour cream into the steaming starch and then transferred the fragrant mound into a celery-colored porcelain bowl. At that point, the doorbell rang and the two sisters heard Lincoln’s voice in the hallway welcoming his coworker to his home.

  “Showtime,” Ashley whispered with a playful wink and scooped up the cocktail shaker. “See you after you’ve got the chops in the oven.”

  “Remember to put on the oven mitts when you carry the platter into the dining room!” Cooper called after her. “If you’re going to pretend to be the chef, you’ve got to look the part.”

  Setting the oven to broil, Cooper arranged asparagus spears into a symmetrical fan and drizzled Hollandaise sauce over the green stalks in a zigzag pattern. By the time the French baguette was sliced and placed in a lined basket and the chops had finished broiling until a fine bark of Dijon mustard had formed on the surface of the tender meat, Cooper assumed the threesome in the living room had had ample time to finish their first round of drinks. She washed her hands, put on her wool coat, and walked out through the garage and to the front door. Knocking, she entered the house and hung her coat on the hall tree. Pretending to follow the sound of voices, she meandered into the living room where Ashley greeted her warmly and pressed a martini glass into her hand.

  “Aleksandra Jones, this is my big sister, Cooper,” Ashley informed the statuesque beauty standing to the side of the fireplace.

  The woman, who had translucently pale skin, icy blue eyes, and dark auburn hair shorn in a sharp razor cut just below the ears, reached out a slim arm and offered Cooper her hand. Every finger but the thumb held a gold and gemstone ring, and one of the jewels took a nip of Cooper’s flesh as the two women shook hands.

  Taking a calculating sip of her cocktail, Aleksandra reminded Ashley that she was accustomed to being called Alek. She used the clipped formal tone of a member of the aristocracy remonstrating a household servant. Her voice was deep and low and was punctuated with authority.

  “Of course,” Ashley responded to the reprimand with equal haughtiness, her tone pure Scarlett O’Hara. “Do forgive me. It’s just that Alek sounds so masculine and you are the very picture of all things feminine.”

  The battle has begun, Cooper thought and took a generous swallow of her Cosmopolitan.

  “I am in a business dominated by men,” Alek stated, ignoring the barbed compliment. “It is best to fit in so that your ideas are not dismissed. Don’t you find that to be true in your line of work?”

  Momentarily flustered, Ashley paused. Cooper filled in the silence by saying, “Charity work is often dominated by women, but Ashley knows how to organize a group like a five-star general. Because of her devotion and leadership skills, thousands of dollars have been raised to benefit local charities.”

  Alek produced an unimpressed frown. “Isn’t that a great deal of effort to put forth for strangers who will never know of your sacrifice?” She gestured at the photos of her hosts on the mantelpiece. “And you have no children to fill this big house?”

  This time, Lincoln intervened. “Honey, I think I hear a bell going off in the kitchen.”

  After calmly indicating that everyone should proceed into the dining room, Ashley darted off for the kitchen.

  Cooper filled in the silence by telling their guest about her career. “I’m in a line of work traditionally occupied by men,” she said, and told Alek about Make It Work! until Ashley reappeared wearing a Vera Bradley apron and matching oven mitts. Pushing open the swinging door between the kitchen and dining room with her hip, she proudly deposited the platter of warm lamb chops in front of her husband.

  “Would you serve, darling, while I collect the rest of our meal?”

  Lincoln admired the entrée for a moment and then asked Cooper and Alek to hold out their dinner plates. “These are some gorgeous chops!” He smiled at Ashley as she reentered with the potatoes and asparagus. “What a feast. Sweetheart, it’s better than any restaurant!”

  “I even made that honey butter you like. Let me just fetch the bread and your homemade butter. Be back in a wink.”

  Ashley didn’t notice Lincoln’s appreciative glance at his wife as she disappeared through the swinging door, but it hadn’t gone unnoticed by Cooper or Alek, and while Cooper was thrilled for her sister, Alek appeared rather displeased. However, the second Lincoln passed his coworker the bowl of potatoes, she plastered on a smile that would have made a jester proud and launched into a diatribe on climbing interest rates.

  She was well into her monologue when Ashley took her seat. Lincoln listened politely to his guest and murmured in agreement a time or two, but his eyes kept returning to his wife’s face. The couple exchanged knowing smiles while Ashley repeatedly praised Alek for her business acumen. Then, she began to make gentle inquiries regarding the other woman’s personal life.

  “Those brains plus the figure of a supermodel—you must have a dozen boyfriends!” Ashley exclaimed. “I bet you can even change a light bulb without standing on a stool. Men just adore tall, powerful women such as yourself.”

  Alek waved off the suggestion. “I have no time for such indulgences. My job is my life.”

  “So are you from this area originally?” Cooper asked in hopes of keeping the conversation flowing.

  “No. It’s such a pity I don’t have the charming accent of those born here.” Alek cocked her head as though seeing Cooper for the first time. “Do you have the opportunity to travel much doing your, ah, copier repair work?”

  Cooper paused in the act of cutting a piece of her lamb chop. “I haven’t even crossed the Atlantic. All of my jobs are in the metro Richmond area.” Staring into the flickering candlelight, it was difficult not to turn wistful. “I’d like to go to another country. I could drive to Mexico, but I don’t speak Spanish, so I’m not sure what the experience would be like. Do you speak any foreign languages?” Cooper pushed the wine bottle in Alek’s direction.

  “Four, actually. Including Spanish,” Alek stated flatly and poured herself a second glass of wine.

  Ashley shot Cooper a questioning look and then began to clear away the dishes. “Irish coffee and miniature chocolate crème brulée for dessert. Be right back!”

  “Let me help,” Cooper said, quickly rising to her feet. She hadn’t prepared any dessert, but when she saw the bakery box on Ashley’s counter, she was relieved. “I was worried there for a sec. There are limits to my culinary skills, you know.”


  “You’ve done enough, Coop, and I can actually make Irish coffee.” Ashley giggled, the flush on her face indicating a slight inebriation combined with the satisfaction of having successfully played the charming hostess. “Why did you ask her about whether or not she spoke another language?”

  Cooper shrugged. “I don’t know. I just wanted to see if she’d react at all when I mentioned Mexico, but either she’s a great actress or my remark didn’t serve as a reminder that she’d murdered Miguel and thrown his body in the trunk of a rental car.”

  Ashley poked Cooper in the ribs with a teaspoon. “You’re so naughty! I think Alek’s lethal, all right, but not in that way.” She took the individual ramekins of crème brulée out of the oven. “Come on, I don’t want to leave Lincoln alone with that tigress. Not that I’m afraid he’s attracted to her, but because she might poison my wine glass while he’s not looking!”

  It took the two sisters several minutes to warm the dessert and pour the coffees into tall glass mugs. Alek’s seat was empty when they returned to the dining room.

  “She’s powdering her nose,” Lincoln whispered and then pulled Ashley down into his lap. “Thank you for inviting her tonight, honey. I think, deep down, she’s really lonely. You’re too sweet and I don’t deserve you. I am a lucky, lucky man.” He kissed her on the cheek and she nuzzled against his chest.

  Cooper busied herself by refolding her napkin until it was a perfect square. When the married couple’s kisses grew more ardent, she cleared her throat. “I’ll just go and see what’s keeping your other guest.”

  The plush carpet in the hallway muffling her footsteps, she quietly approached the bathroom. The door had been left slightly ajar and as Cooper raised her hand to rap on the frame, Alek leaned into the mirror and applied a fresh coat of lipstick. At such an angle, Cooper had an unobstructed view of the other woman’s face.